OPINION: Your bet didn’t become a National Artist? Lobby for a nomination, don’t cry on social media

Social media rants and direct messages to the president won’t do anything to make an official nomination.

When the batch of National Artists for 2025 was announced, many social media users resorted to old habits. They complained about omissions and cried that their idols had been robbed.

Some complaints may be valid. No panel is perfect. Even cheer dance competitions, Miss Universes, and the Oscars have had their misses.

Of course, the Order of National Artists can be politicized. Marcos, Arroyo, Ramos, and Estrada lobbied for close friends. Aquino infamously dropped Nora Aunor from the final roster in 2014 because of her drug-related arrest. (She became a National Artist in 2022.)

But before crucifying the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, the Cultural Center of the Philippines, and even the Office of the President, ask yourself: Are you aware of the process? And if you are, did you nominate your manok?

Yup. You’re supposed to nominate them, or at least help get them nominated. It isn’t a raffle draw. Section 3.2.3 of the 2023 Amended Order of National Artist Guidelines allows nominations from “government and non-government cultural organizations, educational institutions, private foundations, and councils.”

And no, nomination doesn’t mean writing an essay on Facebook, tagging the NCCA or CCP in the comments, or sliding into the sitting president’s DMs. Section 3.2.6 requires a cover letter, a board resolution, a notarized nomination form, a detailed curriculum vitae, a list of significant works, documentation of those works, published reviews, and other supporting documents. It also requires a Presenter who can discuss the nominee’s qualifications during deliberations.

Then comes the actual selection. The Research Group gets six months to verify the submitted information and evaluate the “quality, true value, and significance” of the nominee’s work. Three levels of deliberation follow, culminating in secret balloting before the final nominees are submitted to the President.

Historian Xiao Chua put it plainly on Sept. 10: “Kung gusto ninyong maging National Artist ang taong hinahangaan ninyo, aba’y inominate o ipa-nominate niyo. May proseso po yan. Masalimuot at kailangan ng tulong ng marami.” Mismo.

The guidelines also set clear criteria. Nominees must meet the citizenship and eligibility requirements. Their work must have contributed to a Filipino sense of nationhood, pioneered a creative expression or style, and demonstrated a substantial and significant body of work and/or consistent excellence. They must also have broad acceptance through prestigious national or international recognition, critical acclaim or reviews, and the respect and esteem of their peers.

But here’s where the criticism shouldn’t stop. Maybe the artists being complained about were nominated. Maybe their dossiers were complete, their work was documented, and their cases were seriously considered. If so, the public has every right to ask harder questions about the results.

For one, this year’s 10 honorees include only two women and eight men. That’s not a new problem. In Literature, Edith Tiempo remains the only woman National Artist in the category since she was given the honor in 1999. If the award is supposed to recognize the country’s greatest artists, why does the Order of National Artists remain a sausage party?

There is also the issue of posthumous recognition. Four of this year’s 10 honorees—Gabriel Formoso, Gregorio Brillantes, Armando “Bing” Lao, and Teodoro Hilado—were already dead when the honor was conferred.

There’s nothing wrong with recognizing a great artist after death, and some will inevitably die before the state gets around to honoring them. But the best time to give someone a national honor is while they’re still alive, lucid, and able to experience what it means.

Still, Chua gave another reality check: “Ngunit siyempre depende pa rin yan sa timpla ng mga bahagdan ng inampalan.” A nomination is not a guarantee. Experts can disagree, panels can weigh the evidence differently, and the process itself can be scrutinized. That is precisely what criticism is for.

But there’s a difference between criticizing the process and throwing a tantrum online because the announcement didn’t meet your expectations. If your manok was nominated and seriously considered, then by all means, question the deliberations, the composition of the panels, the male-centric picks, and the posthumous selections.

If your favorite was never nominated, however, it’s a different story. Being a stan ain’t it. A thousand Facebook comments are hardly a cover letter, a board resolution, a notarized nomination form, a detailed CV, a list of significant works, documentation, and published reviews.

So instead of ranting after the announcement, find the cultural organizations, educational institutions, private foundations, and councils that can actually nominate. Or better yet, be part of those institutions yourself and lead the crusade.

The next round of nominations is expected in late 2026 or early 2027, with the next batch potentially announced in 2028. If you really believe your idol deserves the country’s highest cultural honor, there’s still time to do something about it.

To put it simply: Do the goddamn work.

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